"Mum... how old are you meant to be when you go to university?"
Emily, aged eleven, is questioning me in the car. We're driving home from swimming lessons and rain is pelting the windscreen. I sigh, not really in the mood to discuss it. "The usual age is 18, but I was 27."
We know plenty of people who will have received their A-Level results today. Emily has not long had her own SATS score – she opened the crisp white envelope a few weeks ago, name printed on the front in capital letters, all official-looking. She was elated at her grade, thank God.
SATS were a massive deal for my daughter – but they were just the first in a long line of 'big deal' tests. When Emily opens her A-level results in a few years' time, I'm determined that she won't see them as the be all and end all.
It's a pretty hostile environment out there for young people. The pressure to 'do everything right' is huge, especially when you're constantly being told how competitive the job market is. You're supposed to do well in school, go straight to University (squeezing in work experience along the way), and then apply like mad for jobs and internships, often unpaid. Combined with the massive fees, it all feels very high stakes – and barely leaves room to think about what you really want to do with your life.
It can feel like your whole future is in that envelope – the right results, and you're on track to be 'a success'; the wrong results, and you're on the scrap heap already. But I am living proof that your life isn't decided by your A-levels.
I passed my exams and and enrolled at university, because that's what was expected of me. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, but it seemed like the logical next step. I was directionless - and that, coupled with the stress of deadlines and exam pressure made it difficult. Nights out were spent drinking Blue Lagoon cocktails, and I was too busy - getting antlers tattooed on my back, dancing until the early hours, vomiting in my own hair - to care about my education. I had 'done the right thing', but I simply wasn't mature enough to handle higher education. And I'm sure lots of eighteen-year-olds are the same.
Fast-forward almost ten years, aged 27 and settled and happy, I started waking up in the dead of night, sweating and anxious. I was having a recurring dream in which I hand in an essay on time, and continue with my education. Tired of the broken sleep, I enrolled with the Open University to complete a BA (Hons) in History.
That was five years ago. I am married with three children, I work part-time, and hopefully I will graduate next year with a first class degree. And I want to continue with a post-graduate. Being a student is part of who I am now, and I love it. But at 18, I couldn't have been further away. I wasn't focussed, and I could never have given it the commitment that I do now.
Was it wrong to drop out, when I didn't have any responsibilities, and nobody relying on me? Should I have just bitten the bullet and succumbed to the pressure of education at the 'right' age? Should I now be focussed on my family now instead of my education? Am I selfish? Like most mothers, I doubt myself a lot. Balancing a degree, children, managing a household and working hasn't been easy.
But education is never easy. It's not meant to be. Education is an exciting challenge to embrace and enjoy. You're not supposed to be crippled with stress - and I believe that's what some 18-year-olds experience. I certainly feel a nervous energy with exams, essays and deadlines, but now I am much better equipped to cope with it.
Pursuing an education at this time in my life has given me more confidence as an adult. My role as a parent has changed, too - I'm not just someone's mum; I am a student, a worker, and hopefully a role model for my children. I want my girls to know that nothing can hold you back if you are determined enough, whatever your age and whatever stage in your life you're at.
So, I explain to Emily that she can go to university whenever she likes. There is no right way, and she shouldn't feel pressurised. We talk about her options, and I think about all the amazing opportunities out there for her to experience. We're a long way from her being five-years-old, telling me that when she grows up she "absolutely definitely wants to drive an ice-cream van."
Her final summing up of the conversation was: "I think I'll just have two gap years and then just do my degree later like you." I like the fact that she can think for herself. I was also secretly pleased that I must make it look easy, for her to want to do what I've done.
I will tell all my children that, finances considered, they can go their own way with education; it is all there waiting for them, and all they need to do is choose what is right for them, and when. The time for my education is now, and I am pleased with the path I have chosen. Plus, it's a lot easier doing it without vomit in my hair.